Brothers, Forever and Always
by amyfan4ever
Summary: Au where instead of turning Theon into Reek, Ramsay does what he was ordered to and sent him back to Robb.


**(This plot bunny has been nibbling at me for a few weeks, so I decided to write it out. What if Ramsay sent Theon back like he was ordered to? A au reunion between Robb and Theon. Set around the beginning of season 3.)**

Even with the hood over his face, Theon could tell the exact moment he was back in the Stark's camp. The temperature hadn't changed at all, but a chill overtook him. The atmosphere changed, harsher and angrier. Almost as if the sight of him could induce anger in others.

Chained on the back of a mare, unable to do anything about it, Theon just sat as dread grew in his stomach. Sweat dribbled down between his shoulders blades and only seemed to make him more nervous.

He should have been more careful. Or at least had been smart enough to die fighting. Bolton's bastard had overtaken him, knocked him out cold, tied him up and sent him south with a few soldiers as a present for the King of the North.

For Robb, the man who had once called him brother. Who had trusted Theon enough to send him back to Pyke without any other men to accompany him.

And Theon had betrayed him, stabbed him in the back as he took Winterfell and killed loyal Stark men. They also believed he had killed Bran and Rickon, which he hadn't. This was why Theon hoped Robb would at least listen for a few seconds before he sentenced him to death. The king needed to know that while Theon had turned his cloak and stabbed Robb in the back, he hadn't killed his younger brothers.

As far as Theon knew, they were still alive. They were lost somewhere in the north with Osha and Hodor; maybe on their way to Jon at the wall or another of the Stark Bannermen. But they were alive.

The mare stopped and Theon felt his stomach clench as someone yanked him down and pushed him forward. His legs were loosely tied together, so he could walk, but not run. Both of his hands were securely chained behind his back.

"Kneel, turncloak." Someone ordered. When he didn't do it fast enough, they forced him to the ground so he was on all fours. A few moments passed before someone removed the hood from his face.

On reflex, Theon sucked in a massive breath of air before looking around to see where he was.

Inside one of the tents, with Robb Stark only a few meters in front of him. The rest of his bannerman stood clustered around their king. Everyone had their hands on their swords, as if they expected Theon to break his restraints and attack at any moment.

On Robb's right, in the spot where Theon himself had stood only weeks before was Grey Wind. The direwolf had grown larger in his absence, close to the size of a small horse now. In horror, Theon stared at the wolf, remembering the tiny pup they had found in the snow. Grey Wind bared his teeth and growled menacingly, making Theon's blood run cold. It made him wonder if Robb was planning on having his wolf carry out the sentence by having him rip his throat out.

The rage in the tent were almost palpable. Usually, Robb's eyes were soft; full of laughter and life. Today, they were steel; narrowed chips of icy blue fury.

"Your Grace, Theon of house Greyjoy," someone announced. As if Robb needed any reminder of who the traitor in front of him was.

"Why?" Robb demanded, his voice chocked.

Theon stared up at him, unable to answer. In this moment, he didn't see a king decked out in full armor and furs, he saw the boy he used to be. His best friend; afternoons of sneaking tarts out of the kitchen and long games of pretending to be knights. It had been with Robb that the two of them stole a flask of wine years ago and got drunk for the first time together. Ten thousand memories crowded his mind, each one stronger then the last.

Multiple answers came to Theon's mind. _My father hated me and thought I was weak. They thought your father turned me into a Stark. They're my real family and are attacking yours…. I tried not to shed blood until they forced my hand._ "I… I don't…" He gulped. "I had to…" He finally said.

"You had to?" Robb echoed in disbelief.

Beside him, Roose Bolton narrowed his eyes. "Your Grace," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. But when the Lord of the Dreadfort spoke, everyone fell silent to listen. "This man is craven and a turncloak. He'll say anything to get you to spare him."

On the ground, Theon squirmed, making Grey Wind growl. "I didn't kill Bran and Rickon, I swear it by the Drowned Gods, the Old and the New. Please," He looked up, putting as much desperation as he could into his voice. "You have to believe me."

On the other side of Robb, the Greatjon snorted. "Exactly Bolton's point."

In the middle of it all, the king said nothing. He stared down at Theon as if he was searching for the truth before he spoke. "I'll speak to the prisoner alone." He finally said.

"Your Grace…"

Robb raised his eyes. "My Lords, Theon Greyjoy is in chains and there is no way he could hurt me. My Direwolf will stay, along with the guards outside my tent. I'll be fine."

There was a moment of hesitation, but slowly all of the Stark bannermen filled out of the tent. Until only the two of them were left.

"Why should I believe you?" Robb demanded, sinking his fingers into the plush fur at the nape of Grey Wind's neck with his left hand while his right rested upon his sword hilt.

Theon made sure to look him in the eye. "Because it's the truth, you have to believe me- "

At those words, a rage seemed to swell inside the king. "Believe you?" Robb demanded, almost shouting at this point. "I _trusted_ you, Theon." He barely stopped talking long enough to draw breath. "All my bannermen insisted that you couldn't be trusted. _Never trust a Greyjoy_ , they told me over and over. But I defended you, I said you swore me an oath and then named you brother. Something _you_ asked for!"

There was absolutely nothing Theon could say to that. His gaze crept toward the candles tucked in the corner of the tents. "My father didn't want your offer, nor did he trust me. My own family didn't want me…" He muttered.

This only seemed to make Robb angrier. "Then maybe I should refresh your memory about the last several years. I was the one who listened to your problems. We were the ones who cared about you. I stuck around even when you pushed me away and wanted me to leave when you were so miserable. I stood up for you. My _own mother_ told me not to trust you and I said you'd never betray me. You asked me if we were brothers and I promised, _forever and always_. Did you forget about that?"

Theon swallowed, unable to find an answer.

"And you betrayed me." Robb continued. "We loved and accepted you like family. We were there for you, when your own rotten family wasn't. I know what happened, you got in over your head and they sat back to watch you fail. I hope they're proud of you, Theon Greyjoy."

Acid vile rose in Theon's throat. Part of him wanted to scream at Robb that he was wrong, that he had never been part of the Stark family. Someone who was just barely inside the metaphorical door, just enough to feel the warmth of the fire, but also the cold of the wind. Never feeling welcome enough to come fully inside and sit down at the fire with the rest of them.

But then again, he hadn't felt at home on the Iron Islands either. Everyone there also regarded him with suspicion, the way they would treat an outside.

One who didn't belong there.

"You're right." Theon finally said, staring down at the ground. His knee's ached from kneeling so long, but he pushed it out of his mind. "My father gave me the option; you or him. And I choose him. I made the wrong choice… but there wasn't a right choice. If I had stayed loyal to you, I still would have lost my birthright and family…"

Robb stared at him a moment and then half turned away. "So, you decorated the gates of Winterfell with my _brother's_ corpses."

"Two orphans." Theon responded. Even now, he could smell their burnt flesh. They might not have been Bran and Rickon, but they were still innocent children. He might have let someone else kill them, but there was still blood on his hands. "I give you my word."

"Why should I trust the word of a traitor?"

Theon coughed once and shifted slightly. "Because it's the truth."

Several long seconds passed before Robb said or moved. Finally, he strode over and grabbed Theon by the back of his cloak and pulled him to the feet. "Take him to a cell." He ordered one of the guards. This said, he looked back into Theon's eyes. "Sleep well, tonight will be your last."

Fear rose in Theon's chest as one of the guards grabbed him and gave him a shove to get him walking. "No, wait! Robb, please!"

But the King in the North turned away, making it clear the conversation was over as the guards removed Theon from the tent.

 **XXX**

A few hour later, Theon was chained up in a muddy pen. The sun had set by now and the temperature was quickly dropping. A deep chill came over him as he thought about what Robb said.

This was it. That was the last time he'd ever see the sunset, the small meal they gave him might have been the last food he'd ever eat. For tomorrow, his former best friend would kill him. Probably by beheading, or maybe hanging.

Theon shivered. All his life, he had worried that Ned would kill him. But now, it was his son-the last person Theon dreamed would kill him-who would have the honor.

There was no hope that his father or Asha might come save him. They made it clear what they thought about him when he sent raven after raven with notes beginning for help and none came.

His family had abandoned him.

It made it even more ironic since they were the reason why Theon had betrayed Robb. All because he was trying his best to make his father proud. When his real father who had been proud of him and loved him, was already dead.

A sigh escaped Theon as he stared up at the starry sky. It wasn't like he was ever going to sleep anyway.

A while later, he was still looking up when he heard footsteps. He rolled his neck down to see a torchlight coming toward him. It was too dark to make out who it was, but there was more than one figure.

Theon stared as a guard came into view, opened the gate and unlocked him from his chains. "Here you are, Your Grace."

Robb stood behind the guard, a look of anger etched across his face. "Did you kill my brothers?" He demanded quietly.

"No. If they are dead, it wasn't by my hand. I swear it, on my life." Theon answered.

This got him a slow nod. "Come. Now."

Panic started to build inside Theon's chest as he stumbled out. His legs almost gave out, cramped from sitting for so long. "You said tomorrow…" He started to protest.

"Shut up," Robb growled. "Now come on." He ordered, as he started to walk in the direction of the woods.

In confusion, Theon followed wordlessly. He had no idea what his former best friend was up to. Was he planning on killing him right now, or was something else going on here? None of this made any sense.

After a few minutes, the noise of the camp died away in favor of soft hoots from owls and the occasional rustle of leaves. There was almost no light, except for the flame from the torch Robb carried. Several times, Theon stumbled over roots and rocks that he could barely see. "Where are we going?" He finally asked, wondering what Robb had in mind.

The King in the North said nothing and continued to walk, until they came upon a road where a horse was waiting.

As soon as he saw the horse, everything suddenly clicked in Theon's mind. For several seconds, he just started at the horse, not believing what he was seeing.

Robb was helping him escape.

"I'll tell them you attacked me and ran off." Robb said as a meaning of explanation. "Don't go west, everyone will be expecting you to return to the Iron Islands. If I were you, I'd go south or east to the Vale. Or go north to the wall."

There was a slight pause, and then Robb looked directly at Theon and then nodded toward the saddle bag. "There's a few days' worth of food and water in there, along with a bow and arrows. Don't stop to hunt until you run out of food, I'll have to send guards out to look for you."

Theon swallowed. "Thank you…" He muttered woodenly. "I'm sorry for everything..." He added. "I really am."

Robb only scowled. "I hope I never see you again," he said. "Because if they catch you, I'll have to kill you. I can only help you escape once."

"I understand," Theon said and mounted the horse. For a moment, he and Robb stared at each other. How was it, a year ago, the two of them were happily playing in Winterfell's yard with wooden swords. Now, Robb was a King leading an army and Theon had completely turned his back on the Stark's.

"Farewell Stark." He said, before digging his heels into the horse's side.

"And you, Greyjoy." Robb answered, before he turned to hike back to his camp.


End file.
